The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-12-03
WINTER.
A Newly Discovered Poem by Tom
 Hood.

Are gone, like mimic suns that quiver, Then melt. and vanish in the river; Gone the sweetly scented breeze, That spoke in music, to the trees; Gone, for damp and chilly breath, As if fresh blown OCT marble seas, Or newly from the lungs of death; Gona it's virgin roses-blushes Warm as when Aurora rushes Freshly from the gods embrace, With all her shame upon her facei All moulder in the earth, unseen, For Time, relentless, never spares, Fen lovely ones as they have been, And cheeks as beauty bright as theirs!
 Season of pleasure, then adieu! Till thou shalt visit us anew. Yet who without regretful sigh Can say "Adieu" '" and see thee fly Like some bright fair one--cold, unkind, Nor leaving one sweet smile behind! Not he that e'er hath sweetly felt Thy sunbeams in his bosom melt, His heart expanding to each glance, And lightsome as an aspen leaf, As if breath could make it dance, So buoyant, and so void of grief,
 Farewell! thy birds again shall sing, And sunny hours return and bring Many a bright and lovely thing; Again thy blushing roses bloom, And zephyr dutter on a wing Laden with music and perfume. Sweet howers shall be, where flowers have
 been,
 As if they had but slept awhile, Thy waving bowers be clothed in green, Thy skies shall glow, thy waters smile, Then farewell, Summer, yet farewelll W e nope in otnvr years tV ind thee, But leavei-to cheer the gloOms we tell Leave Mirth and Pleasure still behind thee! But say, hath Winter then no charms? Is there no joy, no gladness warns His aged breast?-no happy wles To cheat the hoary one to smiles? Onward he comes, from rocks that blanch, Der solid streams that never flow; His tears all ice, his locks all snow, Just crept from some huge avalanche, thlnV half breathing and scarce warm, As if one spark began to glow Within some statues marble form, Or pilgrim stiffened in the storm. Oh, will not Joy but strive Tn vain To light up those glaz'd eyes again? And will not Mirth's light arrows fail To pierce that frozen coat of mail, Each throbbing pulse-all utterance lost Imprisoned in the bonds ot frost?
 But take him in, and blaze the oak, And warm the wine and pour the ale; His sides shall shake to many joke, His tongue shall thaw in many tale, His eyes grow bright his heart be gay And all his palsy charm'd away. What needs he then the bOisterous shout, Of angry winds that scOld without, Like shrewish wives at alehouse door9 What needs he then the wild uproar Of pillows breaking on the shore? In rushing waves, in bowling breeze, There Is music that can charm hlm, When safe and shelter'd and at ease, He hears the storm that cannot harm him.
 And hark! those shouts, that cheerful din? Those sounds of noisy Mirth within, Those frequent bursts of Artless Joyi Oh take him where the Youngsters play, And he shall grow young as they, Laugh, dance. and sing, and act the Boy. They come! they come, each blue eyed Sport, The Twelfth-night King. with all his Court, Iris mirtn fresh crowned with mistletoel Music with his merry fiddles, Joy ton light fantastic toe," Wit with all his puns and riddles, Singing and dancing as they go! And Love-young Love among the rest A welcome. uDDlu0en Guest! And now the slipper strikes the ground, And now the Blind Mans Eyes are bound: They turn him round, and round, and round. His horses are "black white and gray" He cannot guess the fingers three, Sure token that he cannot see, So let him catch the wight he may! Ahl now "pinch- spotted as the pard," He asks him why they pinch so hardl Now gayly claims the, Forfeit kiss With eager lips for btu shing Miss Must ransom silver thmbles so, And Time, as he goes laughing past Such eyes that shine, such cheeks that glow, Regrets that he must fl so iast.
 Now, winter joins a graver set Just independence as we are met In close divan-but not their parts To gravely ask If trumps be hearts, Or hearts be trumps:-spades, diamonds, Or morning fckle Fortunes s rubs Sitting so wistfully and mute, To trump, revoke, or follow suit. 'Tis theirs to speak of better things Than e'en Court Honors, Knaves or Kings, Which, with the odd trick, ana the Stake, And all the rest, the Deuce may take.
 'Tis theirs to ask if one may trace The mind, the heart within the face? Or whether Satire's venOm'd sting From Envy and ill l-nature spring? If people fill the planets bright? And whence their life, and heat and light? Then leave the skies. to ask and show The springs from whence ideas flow; Or cut vile Prejudice in shreds, To andy ze the Hydra's heads; And W hat is Faster and does the Stage Or Pulpit most to mend the age? Or musing OCT the olden time, Talk OCT its chivslry sublime. Or turn to Chymistrys deep page; Then last, not least. they wisely ask What Man himself-his moral Nature? Or view their Country's laws, and task The flaws in Civil Judicature.
 Happy are those W ho thus can meet And find such conversations sweet Happy are they who thus can chuse Such Blameless themes, that oft amuse. And oft improve; no stories sprung From Envy's heart to Satire's tongue, No praise oblique that ends in blame, No Scandal loving to condemn All Virtue but her Own-the gem That's foii'd upon another's shame No Pride disdaining to resign Its very errors for the right, No Anger with more heat than light, Nor Vanity that burns to shine.
 Thus, then, we meet, and if ye bring Wit. Beauty, Sense and everything Ye took away, and Airth and Health That have more honey y-sweets than Wealth, Welcome! thrice welcome'-whether come From Paris. Ishngton, or Rome, Or even Como's far -fam'd lake A warm and heartfelt Welcome take
 --Harray's Mdgoztne.
 An address to the Islington Literary society read at their hrst winter meeting Tn October lS20 by Thomas Hood, then president of tht society Printed from the original Ms. 1T Hoods handwriting.
 LED ASTRAY,
 George Peck, editor of Pecks Sun is now doing the ripest and best worl